


A Lesson in Honesty

by OwlEspresso



Category: Free!
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 15:56:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15844575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OwlEspresso/pseuds/OwlEspresso
Summary: “Haru…” You coo breathlessly, and he whimpers at the sound of his name, a candy-colored flush dusting his cheeks. His lips are slightly parted when he looks up at you, like he’s about to say something in that slow, soft voice of his—A hand slams onto your desk and jolts you from your fantasy.





	A Lesson in Honesty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lunarenia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarenia/gifts).



> If you like this content, be sure to check out my writing blog, which can be found [HERE](https://owlespresso.tumblr.com/). I'm usually a lil more active there and I post updates on what I'm doing.

The soft crashing of waves in the distance, the smell of sea salt, the fresh sand, and none of it can distract you from the beautiful sight beneath you. Your eyelids lower as your gaze runs along his body, admiring each defined muscle.

You lightly brush your fingers down his chest, making him exhale deep and fast. His eyes, blue like a faraway spring, shut as he submits to your touches, leaving you free to worship and admire his toned pecs, his broad shoulders.

The wide beach umbrella shields the both of you from the sun’s harsh rays.

There’s no one else on the beach. You’re not sure why, but at this point, you don’t really care. You’re just glad for the chance to touch him like this.

“Haru…” You coo breathlessly, and he whimpers at the sound of his name, a candy-colored flush dusting his cheeks. His lips are slightly parted when he looks up at you, like he’s about to say something in that slow, soft voice of his—

A hand slams onto your desk and jolts you from your fantasy. You flail, giving a small cry of surprise, much to the displeasure of the others in the library. You sheepishly shrink down under a few, disapproving gazes, turning your attention to the person who startled you.

“Don’t ever do that again, Kisumi,” You squint at him as he takes a seat across from you. He rests his face on his hands, peering at you in a way that’s probably supposed to be charming—something he only does when he’s trying to ask for a favor. You know better than to fall for his cute faces, by now. He doesn’t seem to take your warning seriously because he’s still smiling at you, “I mean it. If you ever pull that kind of shit again, I’m gonna get the key to your dorm and castrate you in your sleep, you understand me?” He does pale at that. Finally, you think, satisfied, I get a reaction out of him.

As much as you like him, Kisumi is hard to deal with purely because of how you can’t read him. And not being able to read him means having less control over your interactions with him. It’s kind of like walking a really big dog who pulls at the leash, but you’re not strong enough to keep him under control or managed. Not that you think of Kisumi as lesser or a dog! Maybe the dog symbolizes your interactions with him, rather than Kisumi himself? The metaphor is a work-in-progress, at best.

“Yes, yes, I do! Got it, loud and clear!” He nods frantically, before sighing. “You’ve seemed pretty spaced out lately, and you looked so cute… It was hard to resist, honestly!” The smile he gives you is unabashed. Is he ever apologetic? Is he ever humbled by anything? You’ve known him for a few years and yet, you’ve never seen him get thrown off his natural rhythm. It’s interesting in ways that you can’t quite comprehend. And it’s also kind of scary, because nothing seems to really throw him for a loop.

“What do you want?” You cross your arms and glare at him across the table. Despite how jolly and emotionally-open he usually is, Kisumi is hard to get a read on. You can hardly ever tell what he’s thinking or what he’s after.

“What were you daydreaming about?” He shifts his position so only one of his cheeks is resting against the palm of his hand, striking a languid pose. His question makes your face grow hot. There’s no way you can tell him the truth. He’ll never let you live it down! “You keep doing it a lot, lately, you know? I’m worried. Is something wrong?”

Ah, so he’s genuinely worried about you. It’s sweet of him to care.

“No,” You shake your head and give him a small smile. “It’s nothing to be worried about Kisumi.” He smiles at you, though this time it’s much softer.

“I’m glad to hear that,” He replies, and then there’s a sly glint in his eye all of the sudden. It makes your blood pressure spike.You know that look.  What is he about to— “So, was it about Haru?” Your face feels like it’s been set on fire and it takes everything in you to not screech in outrage. Asahi calls him a ditz all the time, but Kisumi is clever in ways that baffle and frighten you, “I mean, you really seemed to get along when I first introduced you to him. And you were blushing that one time when we all went out for ice cream, two weeks ago. You got some on your chin and he wiped it off, and after that you were all—”

“Enough!” You can only whisper-yell, because you don’t want to risk the ire of other students or worse, the librarian himself. Kisumi smiles at you like a cat who got the canary, making a scowl nettle onto your face. He’s caught you red-handed. “Shut up about it, alright? The last thing I need is for everyone to know about it.“

“Don’t worry,” Kisumi assures you, and somehow, that only makes you worry more. He languidly puts his elbow on the table and leans his cheek against the palm of his hand, appraising you with the smuggest look you’ve ever seen. “Your secret is completely safe with me. No one will know about your passionate, throbbing, affectionate, fiery—”

“Kisumi!” You snap, barely managing to keep your voice at an acceptable volume. Your hands have curled into fists and your shoulders have grown tense.

“—FeelingsforHaru!” He squeaks and stands out of his chair, making it impossible to smack him from across the table, “Well. This was an… enlightening conversation. I’ll see you later!” He scurries off with a gentle call of your name, waving as he hastily flees the scene. You can still feel anger and embarrassment boiling inside of you, as you cradle your head in your hands, feeling an oncoming headache. 

God, you really need to learn to be more in-control of your emotions. Or maybe Kisumi just needs to get stupider. Someone that bubbly really has no right being so cunning. You’ll have to send him a text later, or something. Because you know that he’ll get up to something sneaky if you don’t.

You shake your head and sigh, turning your attention back to the pages of your textbook. Haru is busy focusing on his studies and his swimming career. Getting attached to him will only fuck you over, because he doesn’t have any time for you. 

One day, he’ll probably be an Olympic swimmer. All of his teammates adore him, despite how unemotive and blunt he can be. He’s actually trying to build a life for himself. You should really start to follow that example.

* * *

Marine biology is a class you used to look forward to. You enjoy the subject greatly… and Haru sits next to you, most of the time. The prospect of seeing him often motivated you to get out of bed in the morning. Was that sad? To wake up just to see someone else? You don’t want an answer to that question, so you stop thinking about it. Better a happy lie than a depressing truth, right? Somehow, the idea of that leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

You really used to like marine bio, but today, you’re dreading it. Ever since your encounter with Kisumi in the library, you’ve come to realize that your feelings towards Haru will only become detrimental in the long run. You’ll get attached, you’ll fall in love (more than you already have. Is that even possible?), and then your heart will break when he rejects you. 

Not that he’d do it in a mean way. But it would still hurt. You’re not prepared for that. You feel like you’re enough of a disaster already. There’s no need for a broken heart, no need to even risk it.

It’s probably cowardly to keep an easy friendship rather than confessing your true feelings, but this stage in your life is all about self-preservation and caution.

So, you’ve been avoiding him for the entire week. Which hasn’t been easy. You meet him at swim practice, usually getting to the pool while he’s in the middle of it, and watching until he’s done. A few months ago, he asked you to come watch. Needless to say, it’s become a part of your routine. Forgoing that usual visit left you feeling a little number than usual. You can tell that he’s noticed your absence, because he’s sent a few texts about it, which you’ve either ignored or made excuses for.

You clutched your book tightly as you barely skimmed the pages. Your professor wasn’t in, today. And instead of cancelling class, she brought in a substitute professor. Which was kind of underwhelming, since the guy had just given a two-minute lecture and then read you instructions from a pre-written lesson plan. 

Not that you could complain. You weren’t in the mood to work, lately. The rest of the time was basically free time. Haru reads quietly across from you, devoutly paying attention to the book on whales he’s picked up.

You let your guard down and lower your gaze back to your own reading, hoping to drown out the chaotic, confused thoughts that rage within you.

“Are you doing anything this weekend?” Haru questions from across the table and you feel your stomach knot at just the sound of his voice. Every waking moment where you’re not confessing your undying love to him is torture. But instead of being open about it, you simply smile and be vague about it.

“I have to check my schedule,” You say sheepishly, tapping your fingers against the table in a steady rhythm. You don’t have to check your schedule. Half of your week has been spent desperately hoping that he’ll ask you to go somewhere, but knowing you’ll wind up declining. “Why?”

“A new cafe opened down the street from campus.” He begins to explain, but you find it impossible to listen to the rest when he looks so charming. There’s an eager glint in his eyes and his lips have curled upwards into a slight, but rare smile. 

Your heart squeezes in your chest and you grip tight onto your book as you imagine him smiling like that at you while positioned above you, pinning you to the sheets—leaving you nowhere to run or hide, the thought makes your cheek flush and before he can realize you’re not paying attention, you bury your face into the textbook, making him pause. There’s a soft utterance of your name.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, making you swallow nervously.

“Nothing! I just saw something really, really interesting and wanted to get a closer look!” Jeez, you’ve got it bad for this guy. If only one, slight smile can send you into such a tizzy, then you don’t even want to imagine how you’ll react when he gives you a full on grin.

“Can I see it?” He asks innocently, genuinely interested. Doomed! You’ve doomed yourself!

“Yeah, sure,” You swallow nervously. There’s only a second to settle scrape together a convincing story as you lower the book to show him. Willing your hands not to shake, you point at a picture in the lower right corner of the page. It’s a picture of a cuttlefish hanging out near some coral, but there’s nothing really special about it.

“Ah,” He moves his gaze over the simple image. The classroom’s fluorescent lights make the plastic-y pages glint. He squints at it, likely trying to discern what you found so utterly captivating. After a few moments of agonizing silence, he finally spoke up again. “Why is it so interesting?” Your voice stalls in your throat for a moment and you frantically avert your gaze. Trying to find some sort of excuse, no matter how harebrained it is.

“It was really cute…” Your voice comes out small and pathetic. It’s hard to resist the urge to face-palm at your own stupidity. A comically thoughtful expression crossed his face, eyebrows furrowing slightly in concentration. Had you not been so jumpy, you likely would have teased him for it.

“Yeah,” He says after another period of awkward, stifling quiet, “It is cute,” The smile he gives you makes you swoon inwardly, utterly captivated by how adorable he is. As though that isn’t enough to completely charm you, he moves his hand across the page, pointing at a seahorse. “I like that one, too.”

Your heart squeezes in your chest and you have to rest the urge to coo at him, because no one has a right to be this fucking cute. He’s cuter than any cuttlefish you’ve ever seen. Or maybe no one this handsome has a right to also be incredibly, painstakingly cute. There’s a thin line between the two and he’s balancing on it like an expert, pulling at your heartstrings every other minute. You’re but a captive audience to his every move, his every word, his every tiny gesture.

“Nice…”

The rest of the class is spent in quiet, with only a few words between the both of you. Usually, you’d be more talkative, but you can’t possibly multitask idle chatter with your own, chaotic thoughts. The last thing you need is for your feelings to spill out mid-conversation. You love having conversations with him, sure, but you can’t trust your own hasty mouth. 

Every now and then, he glances at you, and you can practically feel the questioning nature of his stare prodding fire into your skin. You hate keeping things from him, but this is your problem and making him question his own feelings would only get in the way of his academic progress and swimming career.

So you wait until dismissal to give him a curt goodbye, scurrying from the room before he can even think to follow.

* * *

Between classes, you’ve started to hide in the cafeteria. Haru usually eats in one of the outside courtyards with Makoto, Asahi and Kisumi (when he’s not with his gaggle of other friends). You’d join them, but you really don’t want Kisumi to tease you while Haru is within earshot. You don’t know if Kisumi would be so insensitive as to divulge your secret so broadly, but you don’t want to take that risk. Maybe you’re being a little ridiculous.

Hell, you’re not in the mood to be teased at all. It’s been only three days since your awkward encounter with Haru and it’s only gotten harder to avoid him. He’s openly seeking you out, now. A few of your classmates have told you as much, after he’s asked them if they’ve seen you.

Again, you absentmindedly stare at your notes. You read them but you don’t really read them. Each word vanishes just as fast as you read them, making you go back and reread in a fruitless effort to ingrain the knowledge in your memory. You really want to eat your rice pudding, but you haven’t touched it.

A loud voice calls your name and you give up on ever learning the material, shutting your eyes and resigning yourself to your fate. You’re going to fail, drop out, lose your job, lose your apartment, and start eating grass because you won’t be able to afford anything.

You bury your head in your hands as Kisumi plops down across from you. His inquisitive gaze practically accosts you as he repeats your name, taps your arm, and does whatever he can to grab your attention.

“C’mon, you can’t ignore me forever!” He whines, and you resist the urge to smack him from across the table. Knowing him, it’ll only make him fuss more, “I’m your good, old pal Kisumi! I’m always on your side, c’moooon. Pay attention to me!” When you don’t he goes silent, but you can still feel him looking at you. He’s probably pouting, probably working out a way to get you to react. Stubbornly, you decide that you won’t give in. You won’t let him get what he wants. Not this time—

“Are you gonna eat that pudding?” In an instant, you reach out and smack his wrist away from your hard-earned dessert, causing him to give a wounded cry.

“So cold! Do you really care about the pudding more than you care about talking to me?” He bats his eyelashes at you, and you give him the coldest glare you can muster. “Seriously, I’m getting worried. You haven’t come to eat lunch with us in two weeks. I miss you. Makoto misses you. Asahi misses you, too! Sometimes, I can even see tears in his eyes when we talk about you!” A hand gently smacks the back of Kisumi’s head and your attention is drawn over to an unamused Asahi, who rolls his eyes as he sits down. “Mean! Asahi, you’re so cruel!” With that, he hunches over and buries his head in his arms.

“I do not cry,” Asahi nudges his friend with an elbow, before turning to greet you coolly. “How’ve you been?” You don’t need to hear anything else to know that this isn’t the usual Asahi you interact with. His expression is uncharacteristically serious, one eyebrow raised, his chin resting in the palm of his hand as he bores you with a sharp look. He hardly ever looks this critical of anyone, and in all honesty, it’s kind of unnerving to see him so focused.

“Good,” You nod and muster a small smile. Kisumi, you know is analytical behind that bubbly exterior, but you’ve never had to hide anything from Asahi. You don’t know how intuitive he is, or if he’ll be able to tell that you’re bullshitting him, “The algebra class I’m taking is fuckin’ hard, though. I gotta do way too much studying.” You insist, already beginning to create excuses. Asahi, much to his credit, tips his head and crosses his arms, looking absolutely unconvinced.

“Are you sure?” He asks, voice firm. After a beat of silence, his expression softens in a way that makes your chest go tight, “You haven’t been coming to eat or hang out with us at all. And Haru says you’ve been avoiding him… Did one of us do something?” His concern makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside, but it’s difficult to not tell him the truth when he feels so guilty. More than anything, you want to assure him that none of this is his fault. He’s like the little brother you’ve never had and you hate the idea of him ever suffering. He’s been nothing but good to you—

“It’s because of Haru!” Kisumi chimes and your blood freezes. You give an indignant squawk and reach across the table to smack him for a second time. How dare he disclose your personal, private feelings in the middle of a conversation like it’s nothing! He yanks his arms back before you can get to him, making you scowl.

“Is it?” Asahi’s eyebrows go high in surprise, skeptical. You take that chance and immediately begin to insist otherwise.

“It’s definitely not about Haru,” You say adamantly, a new determination in your eyes. “He has nothing to do with any of this. It’s just some things I gotta deal with on my own.” You tap your fingers against the cafeteria table and Asahi shoots Kisumi an unreadable look.

“Yeah, I think you’re right.” The redhead talks about you like you’re not even there and your panic spikes.

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not even here!” You snap, because it’s honestly irritating. Asahi puts his hands up in surrender.

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with us!” He insists fervently. “I don’t think you should keep avoiding him, but this is obviously between the two of you.” You bite your lip, unsure if you should keep trying to lie or just admit that he’s found the truth. Kisumi is slippery to deal with, but Asahi is usually a man of his word. Plus, he was incredibly concerned about your well-being only a few moments ago. You can (probably) trust him.

“…Alright.” You sigh, shutting your eyes. The beginnings of a headache are beginning to ring in your skull, making you raise your fingers to massage your temples.

“Though, I’d tell him soon,” Kisumi chimes. The concerned lilt in his voice is the only thing that stops you from strangling him. “It looks like all this is really bothering you.”

“It’s fine,” You tell him, and the firm tone of your voice is enough to let him know he should drop it. He looks troubled, but he doesn’t push it further. An awkward silence settles over the table as you begrudgingly grab your pudding and begin to eat it, tension evident in your movements.

Fortunately, Asahi has the good sense to change the subject, beginning a conversation about classes and clubs, something both you can Kisumi can easily relate to. The mood lightens and your affection for Haru is put on the backburner. You can only hope that they’ll forget about it, but you know they won’t. Eventually, you’ll have to come to terms with it, but for now, you just want to enjoy an easygoing conversation with your friends.

* * *

Haruka Nanase is more socially aware than most give him credit for. When people think of him, they’re usually reminded of his love of water and apathetic demeanor, or his obsession with mackerel. Surprisingly, those aren’t his only personality traits. Since high school, he’s developed a sense of intuition, and a deep care for his friends. While being concerned for others can still be troublesome for him, he knows it’s worth it, because he cherishes his friends dearly and wants to make sure they’re all happy.

You’re avoiding him. He’s noticed over the past, few weeks. You don’t come to eat lunch with them as much as you used to. You don’t answer his texts much, anymore. You make excuses to not hang out, and you’re quiet whenever in class with him. Your expression becomes anxious whenever he initiates a conversation. And though you try to hide it, he notices. It scares him. Has he done something wrong? Do you not like him, anymore?

“Haru?” Makoto questions him from across the table and he looks up, noting the concerned expression on his friend’s face. Haru does space out at times, and most people just leave it at “Haru being Haru”. Leave it to Makoto to notice the slightest of changes in his attitude. He often finds himself both frustrated and grateful with how well Makoto knows him. “Are you alright?” The inquiry attracts the attention of Kisumi, who is a known specialist in answering questions not meant for him.

“Eeeh, isn’t Haru always like this?” He gestures to Haru haphazardly, only to squeal when Asahi gets him in another headlock. The noise is comically high-pitched, but Haru isn’t in a laughing mood. Makoto chuckles uneasily, undoubtedly noticing the tension between the four.

“I’m fine.” Haru huffs, glaring at Kisumi. While Asahi scolds Kisumi for not taking their friends’ problems seriously, Makoto still levels him with that wide, concerned gaze. It’s impossible to hide anything from him, Haru knows this well. Makoto’s ability to read him, alongside the guilt Haru feels everytime he tries to keep a secret, usually works in Makoto’s favor. He knows that Makoto would never do anything to hurt him, and always has his best interests in mind.

They’ve grown up together, but Makoto still possesses more intuition than Haru likely ever will. It’s what makes him such a good caretaker. While he’s grateful for the concern, there’s still the stubborn urge to keep his problems to himself. It’s a habit he mostly left behind in high school, but he’s defensive of his relationship with you in a way he doesn’t quite know how to describe.

“Are you sure?” Makoto asks, voice still soft. Haru exhales out of his nose, aggravated at his own weakness. It’s better to be open with them, he tells himself. Makoto is the most trustworthy friend anyone can have, Asahi is always passionate about supporting everyone around him and Kisumi… Haru hates to admit it, but Kisumi’s cleverness is actually quite useful when he feels like actually lending a hand.

He relents and utters your name softly, causing Asahi and Kisumi to pause their weird, makeshift wrestling match. They don’t separate immediately, still interlocked in questionable positions as they stare at him.

“I think she’s been avoiding me,” He says, and the stress he feels shows clear in his voice. It’s rare for him to appear so shaken. His gaze slides down to the table, looking at the notes he’s hardly even read. It’s hard for him to focus on studying when he’s so worried about you.

“No…” Makoto denies softly, but even he doesn’t sound so sure. “I think she’s just been busy, y’know? Midterms are coming up, and everything.”

“Yeah…” Haru isn’t entirely convinced, but he settles for that answer for the time being. The sound Kisumi choking makes him glance back towards the table’s other two occupants. Asahi has an arm around the other’s neck and is whispering something to him in a hushed voice. The two of them usually get rowdy with each other, but something about this just seems… off. He raises an eyebrow at the two as they squabble quietly.

They know something, but he doesn’t have enough evidence to accuse them of anything.

“Are you two alright?” Makoto chimes. Kisumi splutters out your name and Asahi gives an indignant noise, smacking him atop the head. Fortunately, there are no other patrons in the cafe right now. If there were, they’d be getting a few, strange looks for sure.

“We said we wouldn’t say anything—!” The redhead fumes, before realizing his mistake. Haru’s gaze sharpens as it lands on them both. He’s never been an aggressive person, but it’s clear that they know something about your recent behavior. Seeing his firm expression, Asahi groans and releases Kisumi, falling back into his seat with a distressed groan, hiding his face in one of his hands.

“She thinks you’re too busy and too good for her!” Kisumi surges forward until he’s leaning halfway over the table. The surface jostled with the force of him throwing his weight against it, and Makoto gives a small noise of distress as his glass of water almost topples over. “She really likes you, though!” The sudden surge of information catches Haru by surprise and he numbly blinks, absorbing it.

“Ah,” He clears his throat. There are too many questions in his head, which briefly distract him from the conversation at hand. If you like him, then why are you avoiding him? Are you just shy? He only realizes that the table’s other, three occupants are waiting for an answer when Kisumi deadpans, clearly upset with his lack of reaction.“I like her, too.” His face suddenly feels hot, but the meager confession is enough to excite Kisumi, who slaps his hands on the table repeatedly.

“Great, great!” Kisumi babbles, relief clear on his face. “I was pretty worried for a second there, Haru! You can’t toy with a young maiden’s heart, y’know?”

“You’re not the one being confessed to,” Asahi points out, coming out of hiding. He leans his elbow onto the table as Makoto sighs and looks up. All four of them have given up on studying, Haru notes. But really, this is more important. “Anyways, Kisumi’s right. She really does like you. She’s just worried that you don’t want a girlfriend ‘cause you’re focusing on swimming and studying. And that you just don’t like her, overall.”

“What a keen analysis! I’m so impressed, Asahi.” Kisumi coos and Asahi sends him a sharp glare.

“You’re the one who came up with most of it!” Asahi barks. It doesn’t surprise Haru. Kisumi is airheaded, sure, but that sweet, bubblegum exterior hides a cunning nature. Someone so friendly and wholly interested in the well-being of others could never work in real estate! “Anyways, I think it’d be pretty cool if you guys dated, y’know? You’d be good for each other. Cause you’re usually pretty calm… and she’s not?”

It’s not the best sentiment, but Asahi is trying his best and doesn’t mean any harm. Kisumi guffaws and teases him about his clumsy wording, starting another small, petty argument.

Haru does like the sound of that, actually. He likes the sound of being able to hold your hand, and go on dates, and hug you more often than he usually would. He adores the idea of kissing you all over your face and holding you in his arms at night.

“Just take it at your own pace.” Makoto’s hand lands on his lower arm, close to his elbow. When Haru looks up, he’s trapped in place by a warm, green gaze. He can’t hide a thing from Makoto, he realizes for perhaps the 500th time in his life. It’s both frightening and reassuring to know that there’s someone who knows him better than himself. “Alright?”

“Ah, yeah. He’s right,” Asahi points out, “You two are kind of… withdrawn when it comes to this kind of stuff?” He squints, like he doesn’t know if he’s wording it right or not. “So just… move things forward when you’re comfortable with it.”

“Yeah.” He nods, again, unable to hide the small smile that graces his features.

It’s reassuring to know that no matter what happens, he has a group of friends to fall back on and support him.

* * *

You swallow nervously as you sit across from him, trapped in a familiar situation. The project you’ve been paired together on is rather simple, but your convoluted feelings for Haru make it all the more difficult to concentrate. The hustle and bustle in the cafeteria just makes the situation even worse. You’re unsure why Haru has actually come to eat here today. Couldn’t he have just texted you? You know you’re supposed to be doing a project with him, but can’t he wait for the free time you’re given in class to work on it?

Your Kisumi senses are tingling. Does he have something to do with this? Did he tip Haru off? You’ll have to have a long chat with him, later. Or send him a strongly-worded text after this.

“Haru,” You begin and he immediately looks up from his notes, pinning you his attention. You take a moment to think on what you’re about to say. You can’t help the way you freeze up whenever he looks at you. It’s irrational, sure, but your anxiety doesn’t know that. “I know you’re pretty busy with swimming and stuff… Do you just want me to finish the essay?”

“We haven’t even started it,” He frowns at your offer, tipping his head. You would’ve found that adorable had it not been for the panic rising within you. “Do you really want to do the entire thing by yourself?”

“I,” You hesitate, hands balling into fists under the desk. “I guess not.” Another agonizing, few moments of silence pass, until he utters your name, voice tender. It makes your pulse skyrocket.

“Are you alright, you’ve been—”

Another, lilting voice calls your name before Haru can finish his sentence. Kisumi plops down across from you, elbowing Haru in the arm.

“Haru! I hardly see you here! Did you finally decide to come visit me?” Kisumi teases, and you briefly thank god for his existence. You guess he didn’t tell Haru anything, after all, since he seems to be helping you right now. Or maybe he just feels like being a pest. You really can’t tell. The tension flows out of you as Haru turns his attention to the other, giving him a stern glare. At least his undivided attention isn’t on you, anymore. “How’s it going, guys?”

“Fine.” Haru answers curtly, turning his attention back to the pages. Now that Kisumi’s here, he’s keeping to himself. You’re not sure why, but you’re grateful for it, nonetheless. The next ten minutes pass in relative quiet, until you have to leave for your next class. Haru seems frustrated with Kisumi’s sudden, invasive presence, but you can’t really do anything about that. The bubblegum-haired man has a habit of going where he pleases and doing what he wants.

You’re unsure if you want to leave Haru and Kisumi alone, seeing as they might strangle each other or something. But there are still plenty of other people around to witness said violence, so you guess they’ll be fine.

You clutch tight onto the strap of your shoulder bag as you walk out of the building and into the chilled autumn air. Your eyes narrow against the brutal sunlight as you begin to make your way across campus. It sucks that the lecture hall is so far from the cafeteria, but the walk is good exercise and it gives you some private time to gather your thoughts.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket and you pull it out, unlocking the screen to check your latest message.

_Asahi Shiino: were having a study group this weekend! Wanna come?_

* * *

“You need to have more tact with these kinds of things, Haru!” Haru rolls his eyes as Kisumi scolds him, “She’s been really worried about all this lately. Just… blatantly asking her in the middle of the cafeteria would be… unmanly?”

Haru looks at him, deadpan.

“Uncivilized? Tactless?” Kisumi lists off adjectives hesitantly, like he’s trying to find the right insult to fit Haru with, “Anyways, don’t worry, because Asahi and I came up with a solution to this problem!”

A beat of silence.

“It was mostly Asahi, right?” Haru asks coolly, disregarding the inner satisfaction he feels at Kisumi’s distraught expression.

“How could you think so little of your good friend Kisumi!?” The other scolds him with a frown, “All I want is the best for my friends and this is how you treat me?” Haru knows that underneath all that… annoying-ness, Kisumi genuinely cares about his friends. But he’s such a gigantic pain in the ass that it’s hard to see, sometimes. Regardless, Haru doesn’t answer and just levels him with a pointed stare, making him sigh and relent. “We’re gonna set up a study group!”

“We did that last weekend.” Haru points out.

“Let me finish!” Kisumi huffs, cheeks puffing in a pout. Haru really isn’t in the mood to listen to any harebrained schemes that his friend might’ve come up with, but he doesn’t really have a choice. It’s not like he has anything better to do, at the moment.

* * *

_Kisumi Shigino: alright, everyone knows what to do right?_

_Asahi Shiina: Yea_

_Makoto Tachibana: I’m still not sure about this? Shouldn’t we let them work it out on their own?_

_Kisumi Shigino: thatll take years!!! They’ll be old n greying before they admit to anything_

_Haruka Nanase: i’m still here… :/_

_Kisumi Shigino: I know!~ don’t worry, your pals have got everything under control_

_Haruka Nanase: :/_

_Kisumi Shigino: aw cmon don’t make that face_

_Haruka Nanase: …_

_Haruka Nanase: \:_

* * *

A study group. Haru, Makoto, Asahi, Kisumi. Sure, the latter two are aware of your feelings towards Haru… But Asahi had sworn to not interfere, and Kisumi (very begrudgingly) agreed to let you go at your own pace. A study group, held in your apartment, won’t do any harm. Your friends had seemed so excited about it! After all, it would be your first time hanging out with the group in a month or so.

The only problem was that you had agreed to a study to a study group. As in, a group of people. A group. Makoto dropped out six hours ago, saying his folks were in town and he needed to babysit his younger siblings at their hotel. Asahi ditched four hours ago, saying he had to help his sister with the shop. Kisumi, that motherfucker, had dropped the bomb that he was busy with club activities as soon as Haru showed up at your door.

It’s just you and Haru, now, sitting on the floor of your living room, reading silently. The snacks you painstaking bought and prepared have hardly been touched. You’re too nervous to eat because this is the first time you’ve been alone with Haru in awhile. You’ve been avoiding and he’s obviously aware of it. Your pulse thrums in your throat and your palms sweat as you hold your book to the table. You gave up on studying as soon as he walked in the door. Now, all you can do is survive.

Haru says your name, and it sounds different than usual. It’s soft and vulnerable and it almost makes you want to cry. You know it’s an overreaction but your anxiety is at its peak, right now. All you can do is tap your fingers against the table in a way you hope isn’t annoying.

Later on, you’re gonna beat the shit out of Kisumi, who you know likely planned it this way. (You’ll wind up scolding him, at most.)

“…How have you been?” He says after a moment of hesitation. He’s obviously beating around the bush, giving you time to confess, to tell him why you’ve been so distant. Instead, you avert your eyes and give him a smile.

“Good! Just a bit busy,” You clear your throat and try to calm your erratic heartbeat. “How are you?”

“Fine…” He says, but the look he fixes you with is blatant. It’s another one of those sharp stares, the kind that makes you feel like he’s looking straight through you. It’s like he can see what you’re thinking. Like ll the smoke and mirrors in the world can’t stop him from reaching inside you and pulling out a reaction he knows is there, just underneath the surface. That alone makes you stand suddenly, going over to the kitchen.

“I’m gonna get something to drink.” You tell him, your voice a short squeak. The kitchen is only about six feet away thanks to the small size of your apartment, but it’s still more distance than sitting across from you at the table. You just need a few moments to think, just a few, and then you’ll be fine.

He doesn’t let you have that distance. As soon as you reach the kitchen counter, you hear him get up and you freeze, caught between your fight or flight instinct. Had he not caught up to you, you likely would have bolted to your bedroom. But before you can move his hands come down on either side of you to rest on the counter. His forehead is almost touching your own and those blue, blue eyes are looking deep into your own. He’s so close, so fucking close. The suddenness of it renders you speechless.

Your breath catches in your throat but it feels like your entire existence is trapped there.

“Why aren’t you talking to me?” It’s a demand, but the way his voice warbles a little during the middle of it makes you tear up. In the process of keeping distance from him (in trying to do what is best for him) you’ve hurt him. You’ve known this entire time, but you’ve been ignoring it, ignoring the way he feels. It hadn’t even hit you that maybe he values your company, that he enjoys being near you. You’ve been so busy writing yourself off as an annoyance or a distraction that his feelings had never occurred to you.

“I–I didn’t want to get in the way,” You stutter, keeping yourself together with frail strings and thin paper. The weight of your emotions is finally beginning to tear at that paper mache mask you’ve been keeping. Your lips tremble. “You’ve been really focused on swimming and studying and I–uhh, I really, really like you. And I didn’t think you’d want a girlfriend ‘cause you have so much else to do.” Your confession is hamfisted, shoved awkwardly in the middle of your reasoning. It makes you feel even more pathetic, more inadequate than you could have imagined.

The incredulous look he gives you almost makes you feel worse.

But then he stands to his full height and leans in so your face is near his chest. His lips brush against your forehead in a chaste kiss, making you freeze. Your breath stutters in your lungs as you desperately try to keep it together, but his arms are wrapping around you and tugging you tight to his chest. You can’t contain it anymore, and you let the tears burn at your eyes and flow over. Usually, you hate crying, but right now it feels cathartic, like there’s been a weight lifted off your shoulders.

You sniffle and cry into his shoulder, hands reaching up to grip at the back of his sweater. He’s warm and he smells nice. And you love him. And he’s holding you.

He rocks you back and forth on your feet as you sob and whimper into his shoulder. His hands rub your back. His movements are gentle and awkward but he’s doing his best to console you. Each touch is gentle, as though he fears you’ll shatter if he hugs you too hard.

“It’s okay,” He soothes. He doesn’t seem to entirely know what he’s doing because he pauses for a long time, “It’s okay… I like you, too,” Your posture loosens as the worst of your crying begins to die down, “Don’t cry, please. It’s alright… I have time for a girlfriend,” It’s awkward but it’s so fucking sweet. “I don’t know what to do when you cry.” He confesses, resting the side of his head against yours.

“You’re doing just fine.” You assure him, trying to smile. It’s hard, and it probably doesn’t look genuine, because you’re still a little rattled. Your breathing starts to calm down.

“Good.” The sigh he gives is nothing short of relieved. A small silence takes over the kitchen, and you’re not sure what you should say, at this point. Should you ask him if he still wants to study? Should you go out to dinner? Should you reach down and hold his hand? What boundaries are there, now?

“Do you want to get dinner?” Fortunately, Haru is already a step ahead. He regrettably pulls back, gaze concerned and inquisitive. A date?

It feels weird to head out on your first date after going through an emotional confession. Shouldn’t there be more ceremony to this? You suppose not.

You’re weary from the panic attack you just went, through. The idea of going out into the public, where there’ll be so many sights and sounds and people, unnerves you. Fortunately, he seems to notice this.

“Wanna get takeout and watch a movie, instead?” He inquires, and you nod. He presses a quick kiss to your cheek and nudges you towards the living room, back onto the couch. Even while ordering the food, he still has an arm around you, and while you wait for the pizza to come, he gets you a glass of water and cuddles you close, rubbing your back.

An hour later and you’re watching a random romcom, head resting on his shoulder. The pizza you’ve consumed is digesting comfortably in your stomach and you feel warm inside. Finally, finally, finally, you think to yourself, eyes shutting.

“Haru.” You mumble. A moment of silence passes. Has he fallen asleep?

“Mhm?” His drowsy response makes you smile.

“Thank you.”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he gives a lazy noise of confirmation that lets you know he’s well on his way to unconsciousness. You don’t even bother to turn the movie off as your consciousness flickers off like a light, too content to move even an inch.

* * *

“I can’t believe it’s finally over,” You give a loud, melodramatic sigh and plop your head onto Haru’s shoulder. The train rumbles over the rails as the two of you ride back to your stop. The cold of early winter is repelled by his body heat, pressed tight against you. “I think we did pretty well.”

“We did,” Haru’s arm wraps around your shoulder and you resist the urge to groan when you’re brought further into his side. It’s just so good to know that you can be close to him whenever you want, that your feelings are out in the open. “I think the point you made about cuttlefish really helped.” His lips press against your temple and you feel your cheeks grow warm. Despite being on public transport, you find it harder and harder to keep your eyes open.

It’s been a mere two weeks since you’ve started dating, but Kisumi keeps teasing you, saying you’re “practically married”. Not like you care, because being married to Haru probably wouldn’t be so bad, either. He can cook, he does his fair share of chores, he always sends you “good morning” and “good night” texts whenever you’re apart. He’s an attentive boyfriend, a person you could see yourself spending the rest of your life with.

Is that weird? You’ve only been “official” for two weeks. Maybe you’re still in the honeymoon phase? You hate to think that you’d ever love him less than you do, now. Relationships are so baffling, but you have to remind yourself to take one step at a time, because living in the moment is better than worrying about things in the future that might never happen.

You move your gaze up to his face, admiring the slope of his jaw and the curve of his nose. All of the affection you feel for him is still there, firm in your chest, permanently apart of you. You don’t notice he’s caught you staring until he utters your name, snapping you out of your daze.

“Are you alright?” The concern on his expression makes you feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. It’s only natural to care for the people you love, but just about everything is charming when he does it.

Your hide your wide smile in his jacket, face pressing into his shoulder.

“Yeah, just tired.”

* * *

The stare he levels you with is nothing short of breathtaking. Adoration, caution, and concentration have all been swept into one expression. His eyebrows furrow as the tip of his cock presses against your folds, and you let out a shuddering sigh. You tip your hips upwards, desperate for more contact. He’s being incredibly tentative, and while it’s sweet, you wish he’d just slide into and fuck you senseless.

You’ve talked about sex several times before, but there’s no substitute for the real thing.

Fortunately, he seems to understand what you want and he slides his hips forward. He gives a long, shaky moan as your walls squeeze his cock. Unable to resist any longer, your hands reach up to grab onto his shoulders, pulling him down, desperate to get as much skin-to-skin contact as you can. This has been your literal dream for months, by now. His forehead rests against your own as his eyes slip shut, lips parting around a small sigh.

He looks like heaven. A pink flush colors his cheeks and the space between his eyebrows crinkles as he works his way through sensations that are likely overwhelming him. His pelvis rests against you as he finally bottoms out, gripping onto the sheets as his arms quake.

“Is this okay?” He gasps out. His eyes open and they’re half-lidded, but you can still see the lust that’s clouding them. You nod, getting used to the stretch of his cock inside you.

Your pulse skyrockets as he shifts inside of you, starting to tilt his hips back before you can even reply.

“Yeah—keep going.” You urge, whining loudly as his cock leaves you. Only the tip remains inside, but you’re filled again with another languid thrust. The sluggish pace has you dazed already, caught between begging him to move faster or savoring the contact you’re having, right now. You eat up each small movement he makes, his heated skin brushing against your tight, wanting walls.

When he hilts in you for a fourth time, you give a loud whine and he freezes in place. Your eyes open and you again meet his gaze. The cautious face he wore during the very start is gone. He’s looking at you the way a fox might look at a deer, intense and wanting. His pupils have swallowed his irises, and his lips part as though he wants to say anything.

But he doesn’t. He pulls back and shoves his hips forward, earning a shocked cry. His pace goes from small ripples to stormy, churning waters with each roll of his hips. He’s a bit clumsy, but you can tell from the furrow in his eyebrows that he’s absolutely concentrated on making you feel good. You clench around him at just the knowledge and keen as your eyesight flickers to pure white, dazed. In the back of your mind,you realize one of his hands has clenched onto your hip, attempting to hold you in place.

You do him one better and curl your legs around his waist. The contact gets deeper and your back arches. Your mewls tear apart the heady silence of the room as his pelvis brushes against your clit with each strong thrust. His lips dance along your chest, brushing over the marks that are blooming there, but it does nothing to distract you from the growing tightness between your legs.

He cums inside of you with a sudden gasp, lips parting as he shudders above you. His expression melts into pleasure as he gives in, eyes unfocused. Just the look on his face alone elevates you to an entirely new level of pleasure. You reach your fingers down to your clit, teasing the bundle of nerves as he fucks you through his orgasm. He hilts himself as deep as he can.

It hits you fucking hard, and the world seems to spin and tip over a little while you go mindless from the ecstacy. You cum around him, hot and heavy, juices spilling out over his cock and dripping onto the sheets.

He continues to thrust, fucking you through your orgasm until you’ve fizzled out, but he keeps going to the point where the friction is too much. You let out a high-pitched, embarrassing sound as your hands snap up to his shoulders, jolting him out of his daze. It takes him a moment to fully come back down to earth, but he immediately pulls out, making you hiss at the chill. The sudden change in sensations makes you shut your eyes tight, chest heaving with each breath.

“Sorry,” His hand is on your cheek, thumb rubbing at your overheated skin. “Was that too much?”

“How did I do?” Is essentially what he’s asking. It’s delightful to know that he wants to please you. Your don’t open your eyes, but you hum in affirmation, giving a small smile.

“You did great.” You say, still breathless. He doesn’t reply. Somehow you know he’s hesitating, still worried if he’s done something wrong, or worrying over what he should be doing. Finally, you take a good look at him. “You should take the condom off and tie the ends.” He jolts into action, looking away from you. It must’ve been quite uncomfortable. Was he so focused on you that he completely ignored it? You think it over as you lay your head back on the pillow, just feeling the slow, warm way your muscles unwind.

You doze off for… all of two seconds before the bed creaks. The idea of opening your eyes is painful but you look up at him. Haru is seated in between your legs, his gaze fixed on where your cum is slowly leaking out of you.

“Haru?” He looks up at you, like a puppy at the beck and call of its master.

“Sorry,” He murmurs, again avoiding eye contact. “Do you… want a glass of water?”

“Yeah, please.” His inexperience is endearing. He very clearly wants to do what’s best for you and make you feel as good as possible, but he still needs a guiding hand. To think, just a few weeks ago you were blushing and swooning over him like a little schoolgirl.

When he comes back, he has both a glass of water and a warm washcloth. You gratefully take the drink and watch as he kneels between your legs, looking adorably concentrated while he cleans you up. It embarrasses you to have him so close, gaze intent and almost analytical, but you keep quiet as he works.

“Can I cum inside next time?” He asks. You choke a little on your water, before gently putting the glass on the nightstand. The blatant phrasing flusters you, but he’s clearly looking for an absolute answer, right now.

“Y-Yeah, sure. We just gotta get a few things checked…” A few things that you should have gotten checked before fucking him the first time. You lay back and look at the ceiling as he stands up to get rid of the small towel, and you don’t open your eyes as he lays beside you, the bed moving and creaking under his weight. As sudden and reckless as that was, you really can’t find it in yourself to regret it. You’re finally with the guy you love. You’re gonna be able to hold hands and kiss and everything, without having to hide. The thought makes you smile, despite how tired you’re getting.

“Gonna take a nap. Okay?” You tell him, already feeling your consciousness grow hazy. He hums in agreement and wraps an arm around your middle, tugging him close.

His head nuzzles against your shoulder and you clumsily reach a hand up to comb through his hair.

Once, twice, and then you’re asleep.


End file.
